


A First-Rate Clown

by rynoa29



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Angst, Gen, Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynoa29/pseuds/rynoa29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shima thinks back on the life he's been leading these past few years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A First-Rate Clown

The smile in the mirror is picture perfect. It’s as charming as it needs to be, as easygoing as they want to see, and as foolish and intrepid as he wants it to be. 

It’s his masterpiece, perfected over long years full of resentment, disappointment, and a growing apathy that is hard to keep off his face these days. 

He has his off days, of course he does. No matter how practiced he is, no matter how blithe he strives to appear, sometimes, the mask falls off; the act gets tiring. He holes himself up in room those days. Staring at porn magazines is more productive than staring at his ceiling, but the latter has its appeal on occasions. He lets his thoughts wander—not too far, not too deeply. Those kinds of things are too troublesome to contemplate. He’s made his bed already, and he had no regrets in lying in it. 

Still, sometimes he thinks his disguise is too good. 

It’s a weighted statement, that one. He isn’t sure if he wants to be found out—and if he does, then what? It’s not scorn he’s looking for, no. He just wants… something that’s out of reach. There’s not a name for it, just a sensation of being too-close and not-close-enough. He’s walking that edge carefully, enjoying the thrill, hating the frustration. 

There were times where it got to be too much, however. Times where he’s wanted to throw the towel and confess. He would’ve sat in _seiza_ for hours if Bon had asked; would’ve endured any punishment the other would unleash, whether it’d be a long scathing lecture, or the sharp impact of a wooden sword striking his back. 

Things are different now though. 

He might still be playing the fool for them, performing every motion with practiced ease. However, if there was one person he isn’t fooling anymore, it’s himself. 

Shima has realized just how little he matters to them; how far apart they’ve let him draw away. Konekomaru, for all the goodness that he embodies, for all the patience and understanding that he tries to provide, is blinded by his need to feel helpful, to be of use to Bon and their elders. 

As for Bon… He has his sights set so far ahead that he often forgets to look at those he’s leaving behind. 

Shima’s fine with that though. He has his own path to follow after all. He hasn’t found a place to belong, not exactly, but the Illuminati provide him a way to ease that deep, dark resentment that has been festering inside of him, building up slowly, and then rapidly, until he was ready to explode. 

Perhaps that’s why revealing his true self to them ends up being so liberating. When the dark flames of his familiar take hold of him, an icy-hot fire runs through his veins. Bon’s voice dares utter his name so familiarly, finally, after all these years, and Shima’s smile turns at once vindictive and pleased. 

_You’re lookin' at me now, aren’t ya?_


End file.
